Technical Advice
by Aloemilk
Summary: There are some very important conversations to be had the night before the wedding. Originally written for Romione Fluff Fest on Tumblr.


_**Originally written for the Romione Fluff Fest on Tumblr**_

 **Title: Technical Advice**

 **Prompt: The night before their wedding**

 **Rating: K+**

 **AN: I could have written so much more for this but tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiime**

* * *

The television set in his room was on, but Ron wasn't paying any attention to it. He was laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He was half-thinking that he should really try to go to sleep, and half-marvelling at those little, big choices in his life that had brought him to this place, at this time.

He was getting married to Hermione in less than twelve hours. They were holding their wedding in a small hotel, one of those old family country houses converted into a lodge, owned by a witch and her Muggle husband; it was practically filled up with their guests. It had been the only way they'd found to invite Muggle guests from Hermione's side, without having to blow the Statute of Secrecy out the window. In preparation, they had sent a very clear request as an addendum to the invitations, warning all magical guests that Muggles would be present and that magic should be kept to a minimum... and with diagrams showing proper Muggle wedding attire. So far, most people had been excited at how different their wedding would be.

Ron was the most excited of all.

He had been ready to continue down memory lane, when his room's phone rang. A quick look on the telephone's small screen showed Hermione's room number; he replied before the third ring.

"Yeah?"

"Hi, Ron," she said, her voice soft.

"Hey," he replied, a smile she couldn't see stretched on his face. "We're getting married tomorrow."

"It's close to one in the morning so, technically, we're getting married later today."

His silence was accompanied by a shaking of his head, a rolling of his eyes, and a smirk, all of which were trying to hide how endearing he thought she was being. This was the Hermione he knew and loved. But she couldn't see any of that, and she must have interpreted his muteness differently, for she whispered her next words.

"Do you still want to marry me, or did I just put you off?"

He chuckled. "You couldn't stop me from marrying you with a body-bind curse."

"I know," she sighed, contentment clear in her voice. "You know I can't help making those silly, small corrections so, if it was a deal breaker, you wouldn't have proposed all that time ago."

"Well, _technically_ ," he imitated her, "you proposed."

"You were the one to first talk about getting married, when we first got together, remember?"

"Yeah, but we both agreed back then that it wasn't a real proposal. It was more like a proposal about having a proposal in the future... which you brought up about, err, a year and a few months ago."

"If you think about it, mine wasn't a proposal either. I said, _I'm ready to marry you when you are_. I didn't ask if you wanted to marry me which, technically, is what proposals are supposed to be like. It was you who had the ring ready and said, right there and then, mind you, that you had been ready for a while and would I marry you..."

"All right, then, sure. I'm fine if that's the official story," he teased.

She sighed. "That's one of the reasons why I want to marry you. You know when to let me win."

"I have been told that that is one of the secrets of a happy marriage. Letting the wife win. I've been practising since I met you."

This time it was her turn to laugh. It was one of the sweetest sounds in the world to him.

"You _rarely_ let me win an argument; I don't know when all this practise was supposed to be happening," she complained.

"If I bicker with you, it's only because you like it."

"Bickering is in your nature; you couldn't stop arguing with me if you tried."

"You also love it. Stimulates your mind and all that."

"Right."

"It stimulates other things too, now that we're talking about stimulation. There have been times when it just gets you going and-"

"Stop!" she laughed. "Save it for the wedding night, perhaps?"

He laughed alongside her, his chest expanding in the joy of it. Silence filled up the the space between them, but she broke it soon enough.

"I want to hug you. Cuddle with you in bed. Like every night," she said.

"Hermione..." he began, all the reasons they had decided to spend the night apart flashing through his mind.

"Well, I just don't believe in this whole _bad luck_ thing! And tradition means nothing, we are a modern couple!" she argued. "I just want to spend the night with you!"

All counterarguments died on his tongue, his own longing and the pleasure of her need for him erasing any doubts.

"If we get caught, my mum and yours will never let us forget it-"

"They don't have to know. I'll be right there," she announced, hanging up before he could say anything else.

He put the receiver down and got up from bed. He turned off the T.V. and looked around the room, checking for any particularly bad messes on the floor that might ruin the moment. He was running his fingers through his hair in an effort to look as decent as possible in his pants and an undershirt, when there was a knock at his door.

He opened the door in excitement, but the smile on his face froze into a rictus when he realized Harry, Bill, and George were on the other side, the latter holding a bottle of Firewhisky in his hand.

"No," was all Ron said before the three forced their way into his room.

"Yes!" Bill exclaimed, closing the door behind all of them.

"Don't worry, we're not planning to get you drunk-or not _too_ drunk, at least," Harry tried to reassure him. It didn't have the intended effect, though, as Ron was pretty sure they were all partly intoxicated already.

"But I... no!" Ron insisted. "I don't want to marry Hermione with a hangover! Don't wanna say my vows while feeling like an axe is lodged in my skull!"

Panicking, Ron looked among the three unwanted visitors, trying to figure out how to best get rid of them, as quickly as possible. Hermione would be there any minute and-

A knock at the door. Too late.

George stepped to open the door and, seeing Hermione on the other side, laughed loudly and incredulously. Ron had a brief glimpse of Hermione, their eyes locking with mirrored horror through the gap, before George half-closed the door and blocked the view. He turned to Ron.

"You cheeky bastard! Were you planning a midnight rendezvous with your bride?"

Without waiting for an answer, George stepped outside of the room, closing the door behind him. Ron made an attempt to get to him and Hermione, but both Bill and Harry got in the way.

"Oh, no, you won't," Harry said, holding Ron with a hand on his shoulder.

"As your older brother," Bill added, "it's my mission to make sure things are done right."

"Wait a bloody minute..." Ron tried again, but got distracted as George returned into the room, alone. "What did you tell her?! If you were mean to her, George, I swear I-"

"Calm down, little brother. I was nice but firm. She is not to see you until tomorrow, when she walks down the aisle toward you."

The visual of Hermione walking to him made his mind fill with wondrous expectation, distracting him enough to momentarily forget his anger at the intrusion.

"Where were we?" Bill asked, catching Ron's moment of weakness. He casually stepped away from Ron's path and sat on a chair.

"Oh, yes!" George said, imitating Bill and lifting the bottle to indicate there was a purpose to their unwelcome visit.

Harry took the third chair, duplicated it, and gave one to Ron. With a hand on his shoulder again, Harry pushed him down until Ron gave up and sat down.

Ron settled on his chair half-mutinously, but lifted his hands, palms out, in a sign of resignation.

"All right, all right. I won't see Hermione. Are we good now? Will you go? Can I go to sleep?"

"No, no, no, Ronnie," Bill said. There had to be something funny about the nickname, as both George and Harry laughed at it. "We are here on a mission."

Ron stole a glance at the bottle, and calculated there was about two-thirds left. If they didn't crack open the small ones in the mini-fridge, they should be done drinking the Firewhiskey rather quickly.

As if reading his mind, Harry summoned a glass from the mini-bar, multiplied it to four, and poured two fingers of the amber liquid in each.

"What kind of mission?" Ron asked, worried.

"We are here to make sure you do right by Hermione."

"In... life?" he asked, confused.

"No," Harry explained. "On the wedding night."

Ron dropped his head, his chin touching his upper chest. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Uh-uh," George said. "We want to make sure you uphold the good Weasley name."

"We are famous for how... _happy_ we make our wives on our wedding nights," Bill added.

Ron lifted his head to give Bill an accusatory look, and he shot a hand forward, fingers splayed in disbelief and exasperation. "You are the only one of us who's married!"

"So what does that tell you, huh? My fame has now created expectations for all of you," Bill insinuated with a cheeky grin. George and Harry laughed once more. Ron growled; he reached for the drink and had a good sip. He had gotten to the point of needing its blissful relief.

"C'mon, this is bollocks," he argued. "I've been living with Hermione for one and a half years." When none of his torturers seemed to understand what he meant, he added, "you've all caught us shagging at one point or another!"

"I don't need the reminder," Harry complained.

Ron grabbed that offering and attacked. "Exactly! If you don't want to hear about it, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you have stopped them? You're my best man!"

He hoped the betrayal he conveyed in his voice made Harry reconsider this _mission._ As Harry gave him a sniggering, somewhat inebriated smile, Ron knew his best mate was not feeling bad at all.

"Wanker," Ron complained through gritted teeth, but it seemed not to have an effect on anything or anybody.

"I tried to stop them," Harry said. "But they gave me a bit to drink and a few good arguments and, suddenly, I saw the light. As Hermione's only brother, I need to defend her interests. And as she's not my sister by birth, I can put my disgust aside for a moment, all for her benefit."

"Hermione doesn't seem to have any complaints," Ron tried once more. "We're pretty happy with our sex life, if you must know."

"We don't _have_ to know," George said.

"This is not about what you already do for her... this is about learning new things that will make her remember tomorrow night forever," Bill explained.

"So cheers," George said, and lifted his glass for a toast.

"I bloody well don't-"

"Do you want us to tell Mum we caught Hermione trying to sneak into your room?" George threatened.

Undoubtedly trying to add pressure, Bill and Harry lifted their glasses for a toast as well. Ron still refused to followthem but said nothing, considering his options; he did not want his mum to know and potentially nag them about it.

Bill reached with his free hand and offered the glass to Ron, until he took it begrudgingly.

"Let us begin," Harry said, and they all drunk at once.

"Just one thing," Ron implored, giving up. He pointed a finger to Harry. "I don't want to hear any advice from you!"

* * *

 _The following evening..._

"Oh... my... Roooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooon!"

He would never admit it to anybody, but he did learn a trick or two.


End file.
